


I'll Take You High

by Kiros18



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Come Marking, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Derek gets caught on the couch, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Praise Kink, Roommates, Shy Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski is a Nice Thing, Top Stiles Stilinski, Verbal Humiliation, Voyeurism, if you squint sideways, thigh fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:41:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29881305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiros18/pseuds/Kiros18
Summary: Derek should've gone to his room, or -at the very least- locked the front door.To no one but Stiles' surprise, he'd done none of that. After all, he was nothing but a slut for Stiles’ attention. A beggar, ready to get down on his knees and take whatever Stiles would offer him. It didn’t matter if it was his heart, his cock or merely his fingers and tongue. Derek would take it, greedy and desperate as he was.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 6
Kudos: 81





	I'll Take You High

To be fair, Derek should’ve checked the lock on the front door.

No— he should’ve just gone to his room. He should’ve checked the lock on the front door, gone back to his own room, locked that door too, and then he should’ve been fucking quiet.

He should’ve kept his mouth shut, should’ve tried harder at not sounding like a needy little bitch in heat, begging and whining for his friend’s cock.

Not just his friend. His best friend since childhood - his roommate at that too. Fuck, Derek should’ve tried harder.

But apparently, this is his life now.

His pathetic life where Wednesday afternoons are spent on the living room couch with his dick in his hands because Stiles— Stiles had been wearing Derek’s clothes.

Derek’s clothes that pooled a little too much at the feet because Stiles was just that smaller than Derek. Derek, who had spent a moment too long taking Stiles in, his hair still wet from his shower, face flushed red from the hot water. And Derek had— fuck, Derek’s stomach had been a tight coil of want, his dick hard as he’d cleared his throat and averted his gaze.

No way in hell would he ever let Stiles know about this. No way would he ever tell his friend, that all of the times Stiles had called him out on jerking off in the shower, effectively using all the hot water, that he’d been thinking about _him._

About wanting to grab a tight hold of his hair and bite at that long, pale throat. Fuck- just this morning, Derek had felt an almost overwhelming urge to do just that. To mark Stiles good and thoroughly, make it clear for anyone and everyone who Stiles was fucking.

But Derek had everything to lose -including his own pride- so that would never happen.

He’d have to make do with his right hand and his imagination. And shit, the plaid shirt currently clutched in his left hand was a pretty good help too.

And wouldn’t luck have it, that was exactly how Stiles found him. Pants pushed down mid-thigh, a shirt that definitely wasn’t his own smashed into his screwed up face while his hand jerked his hard, weeping cock.

Derek really should’ve gone to his room. He should’ve done it, even though he’d jerked off on the couch before, even though he’d never been caught. Not that he would admit it to himself but fuck, the reason why he wasn’t in his room right now was exactly because of the risk of being caught. The risk of being seen, of being watched as he desperately brought himself off.

The thought of the potential risk always made his cock twitch and leak but fuck, he didn’t actually want to be caught. He was so incredibly stupid.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Had the door even been locked? How the fuck hadn’t he heard Stiles come home?

“Derek? You home?” The sound of Stiles calling out his name, the front door slamming shut had Derek instantly freeze up.

_Fuck._ Stiles was so not supposed to be home already. He was- he was supposed to be out doing god knows what with Scott.

“Der—” at the same time as Stiles trailed off, Derek looked up, eyes looking straight at Stiles’ face. And damn, if he knew this could make Stiles shut up so fast he might’ve tried it sooner. Hah— as if. This was a pretty shit situation.

“Shit,” Derek cursed, scrambling to cover himself up. Flailing wildly, he pushed himself up on one elbow, his hand still wrapped around his dick, the other hand -the one holding Stiles’ plaid shirt _for fucks sake-_ coming down, plaid shirt now pressed into his very naked, very aroused groin.

“Are you— were you—” Stiles gaped, still staring openly at the scene in front of him.

“Shit, I’m— sorry, fuck,” Derek cursed, pushing up further, trying to get to his feet. “Why are you even at home? You weren’t supposed to be home yet!”

“Scott cancelled, you know how he is with…. Allison…” Stiles trailed off, eyes landing on Derek’s hand covering up his still hard dick and how the fuck was that even possible?

“Wait, is that my shirt?”

Taking a step closer, Stiles grabbed the shirt and tucked it hard, effectively robbing Derek of his only cover. Well, except for his hand, but you know, not to brag, but Derek didn’t exactly lack in the dick department. His dick was now very much on show.

“Dude, what the fuck—”

“You’re the one grinding your dick all over my clothes!”

“Your clothes? Funny that should come from you,” Derek countered back, gesturing wildly at the Stiles’ form.

“Calm down man, I was just saying,” Stiles said, hands coming up in a defensive gesture.

“Well, could you maybe,” Derek said, inclining his head out of their shared living room.

Completely ignoring Derek’s request at being left alone, Stiles plumped down at the couch next to Derek.

“Were you jerking off to my smell?” Stiles asked, cheeks red while he looked down at the shirt clutched in his hands.

Huffing out of frustration and embarrassment, Derek grabbed for the throw pillow he’d only just been reclining against to cover up his erection that would just _not_ go down. What was he even supposed to answer to that question?

“Uh… of-of course not,” he ended up stammering.

“Huh,” Stiles said, leaning back into the couch, several emotions crossing his face at once. Then, with his head leaned back against the back of the couch, Stiles looked carefully at Derek while bringing the shirt up to his own face, presumably taking a sniff. What the fuck was he doing?

“Stiles—-”

“Derek.”

“What are you— what are you doing?”

“What am _I_ doing? Oh, Derek…” Stiles trailed off, followed by a deep sigh that went straight to Derek’s dick. Something about Stiles’ eyes— they’d changed. Gone darker. More determined.

“I come home and find you on the couch— on _our_ couch- like this. All desperate and needy. _Embarrassingly_ needy, sniffing my dirty old shirt, and you’re asking _me_ what _I’m_ doing?”

Derek didn’t know what to say. His face was on fire, his dick straining against the pillow because apparently, this was what he was reduced to. A hot mess, willing to take literally anything his up until now very straight best friend would give him. _Anything._

“I’m sorry,” was all that came out.

“You’re sorry? Don’t lie to me, Derek. Don’t tell me that you weren’t hoping to be found like this. Don’t tell me you weren’t moaning my name when I’m pretty sure that in fact, all of our neighbours were able to hear you.”

“I-I—”

“You what?”

Really, it just wasn’t fair. It wasn’t _fair,_ the way Stiles’ voice had dropped, the way he leaned closer, closer, making Derek lean back, Stiles following until he was hovering over Derek. It wasn’t fair how he dipped his head down and husked into Derek’s ear, breath gusting over his most sensitive spot. “Were you thinking about me… Derek?”

Derek couldn’t speak if his life depended on it. He nodded, face on fire.

Stiles’ hips twitched as if seeking out Derek’s hard cock. Then, the sound of a deep breath being pulled in and Derek couldn’t help but imagine Stiles wanting to inhale as much of Derek as possible. Couldn’t help himself when Stiles let out his breath with a drawn-out “ _fuuuuck,_ ” and Derek whimpered, barring his throat for Stiles in a silent offering of things too big to be worded out loud.

When Stiles ran the tip of his nose against Derek’s throat and goosebumps stood to life on his whole body, Derek couldn’t stop himself. He was so fucking hard and Stiles was right there. “Stiles,” he pleaded, his voice already completely broken.

“Tell me what you were thinking of when I walked in,” Stiles rasped.

“No-nothing.” Your mouth. God, your fucking mouth and your fingers _._

“Really? You’re so desperate for me you can get off by my smell alone?”

“I— mouth. I was thinking about your lips and we were kissing and you— _please, Stiles,_ ” God this was so humiliating. 

“You want my mouth?”

“Yes. Please.”

“So good,” Stiles murmured, nosing along Derek’s neck. And then, just as Derek’s body was wrecked by a wave of chills, warm, open lips closed around the mastoid behind his ear. It was enough to make his eyes roll to the back of his head, a moan spreading throughout the room. Derek was fucking sensitive around his ears alright.

Pulling back, Stiles tsked in mock reprimand. “You’re always so loud, aren’t you? Can’t help yourself when you’re like this, always moaning and whimpering. It drives me crazy. Makes me so fucking hard when I can hear you in the shower, in your room.”

The embarrassment rolling through Derek’s stomach made his dick weep. It was ridiculous.

“You thought I couldn’t hear you? Though I didn’t notice you jerking off in your room at night when everything is quiet and all I can hear is you, coming? Do you think of me, Derek? Think of me at night when you’re in bed right next door? I bet you were hoping for me to hear you as loud as you always are. Fuck Derek, always so loud for me,” Stiles continued, all the while running his nose along Derek’s neck, the underside of his jaw, tongue peeking out to catch his earlobe.

“I didn’t— Stiles, I didn’t mean to do it, I really didn’t.” Derek didn’t know why he felt the need to insist on being innocent when clearly, he was all but _that._

When clearly, Stiles didn’t mind, Stiles actually seemed kinda like… like he wanted Derek too? Or maybe he just liked humiliating Derek. Make him think that he could have this, that he could have Stiles, just to pull away and laugh at his face. God, Derek hoped not. He had absolutely no dignity left.

He’d have to move out of the country. He’d have to start from scratch. He’d have to stop fantasising about Stiles, have to stop waiting for Stiles to come home before getting started on dinner, have to stop leaving snacks on the counter in the morning because otherwise Stiles would forget to bring any food with him and he’d end up with a headache and low blood sugar. He’d have to stop buying fragrance-free detergent because Stiles is delicate, he’d have to stop cancelling plans because Stiles had been the victim of yet another idiot who didn’t know treasure from trash and had treated Stiles as such. He’d have to stop himself from slowly but surely accommodating his whole life to fit into Stiles’.

Fuck, he’d have to stop _pining._

Derek would rather be the victim of hangry Stiles for the rest of his life than pull himself together and move on.

Scratch that. He’d rather be mocked every day by Stiles for jerking off to his laundry than not having Stiles around at all. And didn’t that say an embarrassing lot about Derek’s self-respect however non-existent it might be?

Pulling back, Stiles looked Derek in the eye, mischief written all over his face. “Really? Did I misread something here? Would you rather I leave you alone? Because I swear Derek, for a second there I thought that—”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I— please. Please, don’t,” even to his own ears his voice sounded thick with want.

“Please don’t what?”

“You know what.”

“You know, as much as I love speaking in codes with you, consent really is about being clear about where you stand, so I’d appreciate it if you could try and use your words just this once.” The heat had left Stiles’ voice, making room for a firm seriousness.

“Don’t— don’t leave. I want the real thing, fantasising about you gets old and I want— I want—”

“You want?”

“Fuck you, Stiles, you know what I want,” Derek whined. What he wanted was painstakingly obvious and yet Stiles was being a little shit about it, forcing Derek to say the words.

“Not for sure, not until you’ve told me,” Stiles countered.

Or, maybe, Stiles actually wanted to make sure that Derek really wanted this. Fuck, he was so gone for him.

“I want you to w-watch,” he ended up stammering.

“That’s it baby, so good. Telling me exactly what you want. Makes me so happy,” Stiles groaned, finally dipping back down to suck an earlobe into his mouth, breathe fanning across Derek’s ear, his neck. “Don’t worry Der. I’ll watch you, I’ll watch whatever you want to show me,” Stiles whispered, all the while peppering kissing from his cheekbone, across his temple and forehead and down until he reached the corner of his mouth.

Seeking out Stiles’ mouth, Derek turned his head, ready to take his fill, to taste Stiles on the inside, to just— just fucking _have_ him. But Stiles really was just a little shit, and every time Derek was close enough to take, he’d move away, steer in the opposite direction, trail kisses somewhere else.

“Please—” he croaked, feeling like he might die right then and there if he didn’t get to kiss Stiles _right now._

“Please?”

“More.”

Slotting his thigh between Derek’s thighs so that each of their hard dicks was rubbing on each other’s thighs, Stiles ground down, making both of them moan out at the friction.

“Yeah? Like this?”

Derek’s head was swimming. Yes, like this— and yet, not like this, this wasn’t what he needed. He needed Stiles’ lips against his own, he needed his tongue in his mouth. He needed _more_ goddammit.

Trying to object but not knowing how because _please don’t stop_ and _no, not like this,_ Derek ended up groaning out an “mmphhff,” instead of actual words, which of course made Stiles grin like a little shit.

“God, you’re so fucking hard. Can’t believe it,” Stiles murmured, tongue lapping at the dip between Derek’s collarbones. “Bet you could come like this. Bet I could just— just let you grind your dick against my leg, let you take what you need until you just come all over me, not being able to help yourself,”

“Please,” Derek tried again, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Stiles was so right and fuck, the humiliation did not help with how close he was _at all._

“Please what, baby?”

“Mouth— your mouth.”

“I don’t know what you mean. You’ve already got it, sweetheart,” Stiles said, mouth ghosting over Derek’s collarbone.

“Not like that.” Fuck, if humiliation was Derek’s joker of kinks, being a teasing little devil must’ve been Stiles’.

“Kiss me. Come on, kiss me, please just kiss me or I swear to God and his—” 

Stiles kissed him. Stiles kissed him and it was so desperate and hard that Derek had a hard time remembering how they even got there. Every time he’d imagined what it would feel like to kiss Stiles, it had gone differently.

In the beginning, Derek would fantasise about both of them being tipsy, just sober enough to not regret everything the morning after. He’d fantasise about Stiles pushing him into a dark corner at someone’s frat party.

As his interests went from purely horny to crushing to pining, Derek’s fantasies had evolved. Stiles knocking at his door at night, asking if he could stay with Derek, just for one night. Derek would lift his covers and they’d wind up kissing, mouths closed. Then there were all the times Derek had felt like maybe- maybe Stiles was about to do it now, just for the moment to go to waste.

Lately, his fantasies had gotten more angsty. Derek giving up and moving on. Moving out. Of course, Stiles would realise what a mistake they were about to make as Derek was on his way out the door. Then, he’d call out Derek’s name, plead with him to stay. He’d mirror the hopeless devotion Derek had let himself sink into for years. They’d kiss, passionately. Tenderly.

Rarely had he imagined it going like this. But fuck, if the feeling of Stiles’ tongue against his wasn’t making his brain swim. Making his dick twitch, jealous for the attention his mouth was getting.

Derek felt as if he’d died and gone to heaven.

After all, he was nothing but a slut for Stiles’ attention. A beggar, ready to get down on his knees and take whatever Stiles would offer him. It didn’t matter if it was his heart, his cock or merely his fingers and tongue. Derek would take it, greedy and desperate as he was.

Pulling back, his breath ghosting over Derek’s wet mouth, Stiles groaned out, “shit baby, you make me so hard. Feel what do to me, hm?” To prove his point, Stiles pushed his cock up against Derek’s thigh again.

“You can— you can do it if you want,” Derek gasped out, already seeking out Stiles’ mouth again.

“Do what? Fuck you?”

“Y-yes.” Then, because Derek knew that asking someone nicely never hurt anybody, he added, “if you want to.” That made Stiles groan, the sound coming from deep down his throat. It made Derek’s cock twitch again.

“Not today, sweetheart,” Stiles said, pulling back and sitting upright. Derek’s heart plummeted. He’d gone too far. Shit.

“Oh.” Then, trying to save what little dignity he might have left, “of course not, I’m sorr—”

“Not today, because I plan on taking my time with you,” Stiles cut him off, leaning down to lick Derek’s mouth open, pulling back just as Derek had granted him access.

“ _Oh._ ”

“Yeah, oh. I’m gonna open you up so fucking slowly Derek, you’re gonna beg for me to fuck you until you’re shaking. And then, when I’m satisfied and you’ve been good -and you will be, because you’re already the best for me-, then I’m gonna give you what you want,” Stiles murmured, mouth back at Derek’s ear, sending shivers down his whole body. “That’s right, I’m going to give you my dick. Gonna let you fuck yourself on it, let you use my dick just the way you’d like. Would you like that, baby?”

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck yes,” Derek chanted, wishing that Stiles would just do _something_ right now.

“So, today I’m just gonna fuck your thighs, alright? Just gonna use you like that, because baby, you’ve had me hard every single night for ages and I can’t wait any longer.”

With that, Stiles pushed away from Derek again. Pushing down his sweats and yanking them down far enough to get his hard dick out, he starts jerking himself. “Touch yourself for me, Derek, wanna see how beautiful you look with that cock in your hand,” Stiles pleaded, hand working up and down his cock at an impressively slow pace.

Moaning at the feeling of his own hand and the vision of Stiles jerking off above him, Derek felt like he’d been teetering at the edge for way too long. He was so close to falling.

“So beautiful, always so beautiful to me,” Stiles murmured. 

“Kiss me again?” Derek begged, feeling heat burn in his cheeks. He’d wanted this for so long and now could finally ask for it.

“God,” Stiles moaned, leaning down. “Even asking so nicely,” and then he kissed Derek just as slowly as he was jerking his cock. It was driving Derek insane.

“You said— you said you didn’t wanna fuck me,” Derek panted, eyes locked on Stiles’ mouth, “—because you didn’t wanna drag things out.”

Chuckling, Stiles pulled back, pushing down his sweats a little further to free his legs a little more. “You’re right sweetheart. I should just let you feel my cock already, right?”

Derek nodded eagerly, a whimper escaping his lips at Stiles’ words. He felt so utterly filthy and worshipped at the same time. It made his heart pound and his dick weep.

Rearranging himself so that he was behind Derek on the couch, Stiles pushed gently at his hips. “Move onto your side- yes, just like that, fuck.”

Balancing on his hip on the edge of the couch, Derek felt Stiles’ hand run down the inside of his thighs. God, this was really happening. Stiles was gonna use his body to get off.

When a hand reached around him to grab his cock, Derek gasped in pleasure. “Fuuuck, Derek. You’re so hard, aren’t you? Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna make you come so hard for me. Gonna take such good care of you,” Stiles murmured, all the while pressing his crotch up against the back of Derek’s thighs.

And then— then, the hand let go of his dick, just to appear right in front of his face. “Spit,” Stiles ordered. Derek did as he was told, embarrassment pooling in his stomach at the feeling of actually spitting on someone’s hand. And then at the feeling of his own spit being rubbed against the inside of his thigh, Stiles hand spreading them apart.

“Just like that, god,” Stiles groaned and shit, Derek couldn’t help the moan that tumbled out of him when Stiles’ hard, wet cock slid in between his thighs. As if on autopilot, Derek tightened his thighs as much as possible, creating a tight, warm, wet tunnel for Stiles’ dick to fuck into. And shit, did he fuck.

“God, Derek. Can’t get enough of you, of how well you just take it. You’d let anyone put their dick in you, huh? Let anyone come in here and come all over your pretty thighs? Or is it just me, Derek? Just me who you’d let take you whenever, wherever?” Stiles rambled, leaning his head against the back of Derek’s shoulders, hips thrusting.

“Jus’ you— only you,” Derek cried, already drunk on the feeling of Stiles’ hard cock sliding back and forth between his thick, hairy thighs. Looking down the length of his body, Derek could just about see the tip of Stiles’ dick when he pushed forward.

“Yeah? It better only be me, baby, ‘cus I plan on coming all over your body, one place at a time, marking you up. You’ll reek of my cum, fuck baby, tell me— tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m your’s, your’s, only your’s” Derek moaned, reaching for his dripping cock. “Please, wanna come so bad.”

“Yesyesyes, wanna see you come, sweetheart, wanna hear you,” Stiles panted, reaching around to grab Derek’s cock in a grip tight enough to make Derek see stars, teeth biting hard into his bottom lip in order not to come.

“Feels so good,” Derek moaned, leaning his head back towards Stiles. “Wanna feel your cock everywhere. Fuck, want it all the time,” he babbled on.

“God, Derek. You’re making me come, beautiful. Making me come all over your thighs, marking you up. Is that what you want? Want me to come all over you?”

Derek moaned, nodding his head again, tightening his thighs further.

“Kiss me, baby, give me your mouth,” Stiles pleaded, and Derek craned his neck and gave him everything. His tongue, his moans, and fuck— his come. Thrusting one last time, hard, Stiles body stilled, his mouth opened against Derek’s, not moving.

That was all it took for Derek to come too, spurting all over the edge of the couch and Stiles’ hand.

Body going slack, Stiles gave Derek one last lingering kiss before slumping back against the couch. “Holy shit,” he laughed, raking a hand through his mussed up hair.

“Yeah,” Derek croaked. “That was… yeah.” God, Derek didn’t know what to do with himself. What was he supposed to say? Whoops? No homo, we still good? Derek didn’t think he could. No, he knew he couldn’t. This was too much. Fuck, it was too much, and it shouldn’t have happened. He shouldn’t be here.

“I uh… I’m gonna go and uh, wash up.” Swinging his legs out from the couch, Derek got on his feet, careful of not smearing too much come on the couch. The cum -Stiles’ cum- between his legs felt cold and gross now, nowhere near as warm and claiming as it had felt mere minutes ago. The shame that had been making his dick hard and cheeks flushed were now making him heavy and panicky instead. Fuck.

“Hey, hold on,” Stiles said, standing from the couch too, sweats still halfway down his thighs.

Derek paused, inclining his head to signal that he was listening.

“Are we… Are you okay?” Derek felt chills run through his body. The confidence and desire had left Stiles’ voice completely, leaving nothing but realisation and regret. Derek could hear it, clear as a day.

Derek really didn’t trust his voice. He shrugged a shoulder, aiming for nonchalant but ending up with insecure.

“Derek,” Stiles mumbled. Then, the sound of pants being pulled up and a warm presence behind him. “Did I— please tell me if I overstepped or, I don’t know, did something wrong, I—”

Derek pulled up both his shoulders this time, looking down at his hands.

“Are you mad at me?” Stiles asked, his voice so quiet Derek could almost hear his own heart shattering. Whirling around, Derek shot Stiles a confused look. “Mad at you— Stiles, you’re the one who should— fuck, you’re the one who walked right into— I mean, in on…”

“So you’re not mad?” Stiles asked, eyes glimmering hopefully.

“God. No. But I understand if you’re mad at me. Or like, if maybe you don’t want to… I don’t know if maybe you want me to move out or something. I’d understand.” He’d understand, but he wouldn’t be alright.

Stiles gave him a weird look.

“Derek,” he said, tentatively. “You’re an absolute idiot.”

Derek’s stomach sank. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m— I’m in love with you, you big oaf.” The laugh that followed was nervous and Stiles looked like he’d just taken a huge leap.

“You’re… no? What? In— with me?” Derek stammered, pointing confused at his own chest.

“Yes. Who else? Who else, Derek? Did you not listen to what I said back there?” Stiles asked, pointing back at the couch. God, the couch. They’d probably have to buy a new one. Together. As- as StilesandDerek, not Stiles and Derek. Holy mackerel.

“Are you shitting me?” Derek blurted. “Because fuck, don’t do that to me,” he started, only to be cut off by a hand smacking his shoulder. “What the hell?” He asked, rubbing at the sore spot.

“You’re an _idiot_. But like, I mean- will you be my idiot, though?” Stiles asked, biting his lip.

“I’ve been yours the whole time,” Derek answered, feeling like this was the easiest answer he’s ever had to give anyone.

“Then take me to the shower,” Stiles grinned, wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck.

Derek moved his ass into the shower so fast. 

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: [Kiros18](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kiros18)


End file.
